


Kind of a perfect Christmas

by ifonenight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Ice Skating, Pre-Series, i guess, mention of John Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifonenight/pseuds/ifonenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't really know what "perfect Christmas" means, so he searches "best christmas motels" on the web, and tries to create the perfect holidays with what he has.<br/>But it's so much simpler than that, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind of a perfect Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotor/gifts).



> It's not much, but I've tried, just like Dean, so I hope it's enough.  
> A month is not bad, yo. 
> 
>  
> 
> Talking about the fic, in my head Sam is 15 years-old, and Dean is 19.  
> There is a sentence, somewhere, which is a reference to the comic Dylan Dog, which I absolutely love. I don't know if Dean could have known it, probably not, but let's pretend he did, or that coincidences exist. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely poledancingcrowley and paucafideliter (these are their tumblr) for the beta reading. You've done an amazing work. 
> 
> Alright! Relax and enjoy the story! Or not. Let me know.

 

 

 

The room is small, and kind of cozy. The beds are close to each other, so much that the comforters are touching, and they will probably end up punching and kicking each other during the night. But there is a light perfume lingering in the air, a pleasant one, like pine, and everything seems to be made of wood, which gives a nice, warm atmosphere to the room. Dean sighs, throwing his bag on the bed furthest form the window – the curtains are too much close to the mattress for his liking.

He turns to watch his brother, busy with putting out clothes from his bag; he looks happy enough with the place, but, honestly, he isn't so hard to please. Dean knows that if he could have had a Christmas in a crappy, smelly motel room with John, he would have been satisfied.

But John is elsewhere, hunting down something, so Dean can only do his best and hope to be enough.

He steps closer and pats him on the shoulder, grinning.

\- What do you think? It's not bad to be that cheap, is it? -

Sam nods and smiles, his eyes a little excited. - It's better than I hoped. They even have a fireplace in the hall! -

\- Yeah, but I thought you wanted to go out and play with the snow or something like the giant baby you are, Sammy - Dean answers, laughing at the frown on his little brother's face.

\- Very funny. I saw a ice rink on our way here, though. That could be fun. - Sam says, his expression growing more and more hopeful while he talked.

Dean wrinkles up his nose. Ice skating is really not his thing. What is the point in freezing your ass off on the ground after a bad fall, he will never understand. He opens his mouth to suggest going to the local coffee shop, instead, a traditional-looking place, promising of hot-chocolates and pies and other sweet food, but he can see the moment Sam's face began to fall, guessing his refusal, and it's Christmas and it's pretty important and Dean can't bring himself to disappoint his little brother.

\- Okay - he says, standing up and trying to stop the smile that is trying to force itself on his face, as Sam eyes widen and light up. - Let's go. -

 

 

 

 

The ice rink reveals to be a large, covered place, full of laughing teenagers, screaming children, flustered parents, and almost disgustingly cheesy couples. It really doesn't seems a place for Dean Winchester, but Sam is beaming next to him, trying different size of skates and watching the rink every few seconds, so Dean gulps down the sarcastic words he has been about to say, and just rolls with it.

\- God, Sammy, you're not looking for the perfect prom shoes, just pick a pair that fits and go. -

Sam scowls at him, but he finally stands up on unsteady feet, staggering until he reaches the gate and then holds it tight.

He seems to need a bit of encouragement, so Dean pushes him lightly, despise his protests, until he gives up and steps properly onto the ice. Dean follows closely behind.

\- So? - he asks, nudging his brother's shoulder with his own. - Didn't you say you wanted to skate? -

\- Technically, I only said I wanted to come here - Sam replies, turning to watch some kids who pass near them at a crazy speed.

\- Doing what, drinking cokes and looking at someone else's fun? - Dean smirks. - To be honest, you seem a little nervous to me, Sammy - he teases.

\- Shut up. I'm going to skate, I just need to get used to the feeling. -

Sam moves a few hesitant steps ahead of him, then tries to slide on the ice a bit, but he doesn't go very far, and doesn't look very good, either.

Leaving Sam to his strange contortions, Dean watches, distractingly, the other skaters going around on the ice; some of them are like Sam – and probably himself, wobbling and looking a bit scared, but there are a few who seem to know what they're doing, and he focuses his attention on them. They're doing regular movements with their legs, lifting one foot, and then pushing it both down and forward, bending slightly the upper part of their bodies.

With a frown, Dean looks at his feet, takes his hand off the parapet, brings up one of his skate, and then lies it down again.

It's a bit strange at first, and he feels like he's about to lose control of his limbs, but in the end he manages not to fall and to follow a direction. He speed up a bit, grinning stupidly at himself. It's kind of exhilarating.

\- Dean! -

He jumps at his brother's voice, and turns his head to look at him, but the movement unbalances his already unstable figure, and he unceremoniously, ungraciously, crashes on the ground.

The fall doesn't even hurt, but he blushes hard, and hurries to stand up again. Hurrying doesn't seems the solution, though, since he only keeps on slipping on the ice with his knees and ungloved hands.

\- Dean! - Sam's voice is closer, now, and he looks up and finds him a few steps from his embarrassing body.

Groaning, he accepts the hand Sam is giving him – he's still gripping the parapet with the other, the little fucker – and he pushes himself on his feet.

\- You're not allowed to make fun of me - he warns, leaning on the railing. - Since you didn't even try to leave your safe spot. -

Sam smirks. - But I didn't fall either, did I? -

\- Of course you didn't, you wouldn't have step away from this damn railing even if it started to burn! -

Sam keeps his smug expression for a few more seconds, but then he shakes his head and smiles.

\- Nah, man, you're right. How did you even manage to skate like that? I couldn't do anything without holding to the parapet. -

Dean narrows his eyes, wondering if his brother is preparing another joke, but Sam is watching him expectantly, so he relaxes and shrugs, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head.

\- I, uh, I watched the other skaters. A couple of them seemed good, so I kind of copied their moves. It worked, I guess -

\- You can say that, you looked almost good - Sam grins and gestures toward the centre of the rink. - Come on, teach me. -

Rolling his eyes, Dean proceeds to do just that.

 

 

 

 

They end up in the coffee shop after all, to warm up a bit after the skating. Dean has to admit the pie he ordered tastes quite delicious.

Sam is in front of him, keeping his hands closed around the cup of his aromatic hot-chocolate, seeming content to wait and sniff the steam over the liquid. He has already taken two bites of Dean's pie, and Dean has allowed him only because it's almost Christmas and that is important. His little bother should be happy at Christmas, at least.

Sam is evidently absorbed in his thoughts, and Dean ponders if scaring him and laughing his ass off afterward will be worth his brother's bitchface, but he's comfortable and a bit sleepy, so he figures it can let it pass this time.

He takes another bite of his pie, without the usual rush – there's really no need for it this time, they're on _holiday_ and have nowhere to go and nothing to do, and it feels pretty awesome, much more than he thought it would have – lazily thinking about looking up the movie schedule for the local cinema, when he hears Sam clears his throat, and he raises his eyes to meet his brother's.

Sam has a look of determination on his face, and Dean has the uneasy feeling that he's going to talk about emotions and shit like that. Call it his fifth sense and half.

\- Dean, you know I like it here, right? - his brother asks instead. Dean frowns.

\- This shop? Yeah it's pretty good. Why? Do you wanna order something else? No need to try to convince me, we made enough money last time to...-

\- I'm not talking about the shop - Sam interrupts. - Well, I guess I'm talking _also_ about the shop, but, you know, I was meaning the whole town, the motel, the ice rink and everything. -

Dean studies his brother's face for a moment. He does have the tendency to get attached to the places they visit, but this seems a bit too soon even for him.

\- Sam - he starts, cautiously - You know we can't stay here more than the week we planned. Dad's letting us only because it's Christmas, but we have to go before the end of the year. -

Which is kind of a lie. John doesn't even know where they are, probably, he just took off a week before, saying he would be back by the New Year, to take care of Sammy, and to let him know where they would be by that time so they could meet. He didn't assign him any case though, so he supposes he sort of gave them some free time instead.

\- Dean - Sam says in a soft voice. Dean watches him quizzically. - I saw your searches on the computer at the Internet Point last week. “Best Christmas motels” and so on. And I know Dad didn't wish us happy holidays or anything, I have eyes and ears. -

Dean winces; he doesn't even know if it's for being caught on his holiday cheers, or if it's for discovering Sam knows about John's indifference.

\- Sammy, it's not like that. - he says, desperately trying to think about some story to tell - Dad had a hunt to do, but he would have been here with us if he could, and I'm sure he'll find the time to call on the 25th... -

\- Do you really believe that? Dean, how many Christmas did he spend with us? Two? Three at most? -

\- He's not his fault he has lives to sa...-

\- I don't want to talk about Dad, Dean. -

They fall silent. Dean knows Sam is hurting, he knows it damn well because it's not like he's happy about the situation either, but he tried his hardest to make this Christmas works, and apparently it's not enough. Surprise surprise.

\- I'm sorry - he says, quietly. Sam looks at him like he's crazy.

\- For what? - he asks, seeming not sure if being utterly surprised or exasperated.

Dean swallows, and rubs his hands over his face.

\- For not being able to give you a decent Christmas. I know the motel is not much, and it's a small town, and Dad isn't here, but just tell me what you wanna do and we'll do it, alright? Think about it as a Christmas present -

His brother doesn't answer for two whole minutes, and Dean is going to ask again, just to break the silence, but then Sam shakes his head and sighs.

\- Dean, I don't care about the town, or the motel, and I don't care that Dad isn't here for sure. - He's leaning forward, towards Dean, over his slowly growing cold chocolate. - I'm just happy I'm with you. What I wanted to say before is that I'm glad I'm with you, and you don't need to put so much effort in creating a perfect Christmas, okay? That you tried to is already enough. -

Dean is kind of speechless. He expected many things, but not this heartfelt gratitude from Sam.

He begins to feel warm and satisfied, a slow sensation which spreads through his body, and he finds himself trying to fight what he can guess would be a big, toothy smile.

Instead he grunts and takes another bite of pie. But he can't help to say - I'm happy too, man. - and grin as Sam laughs.

 

 


End file.
